Justice By Extension
GRATUITOUS UPDATE: I just came across a “Kabbalistic” definition of “good vision” that I wanted to amend for this post: “20/20 vision is not the ability to see far but the ability to see clearly and accurately that which is right under your nose,” a cautionary message for the 2 and 8 of Swords. We could say that Mel Brooks as “President Skroob” in the movie Spaceballs had “20/20 hindsight” when his upper and lower body got disjointed while being “beamed up.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE: In her book Tarot and the Tree of Life, Isabel Kliegman invokes Rachel Pollock’s observation regarding the RWS Queen of Swords: the image depicts the previously distressed woman from the 8 of Swords fully recovered from her trials, with all of her faculties of discrimination restored. She now wields the sword with confidence rather than being intimidated by it. I felt that Kliegman didn’t go quite far enough in this analysis and decided to examine all of the female figures shown in the Waite-Smith deck as avatars of the “sword” archetype (excluding those like the anguished insomniac in the 9 of Swords and the downcast adult passenger in the 6 of Swords, who are often seen as androgynous as well as overwhelmed by their fate).
In the 2 of Swords, the longswords are held opposite to one another, suggesting an impasse in which no decision is forthcoming. The blades are of equal length and the woman’s blindfold implies indifference to both sides of the argument. The waxing crescent Moon is not yet shedding much light and the moody, restless sea isn’t giving up anything either. These swords suggest barriers to understanding rather than key agents in its pursuit: the woman’s unyielding expression could be saying “None shall pass.” As with all of the Twos, this one is often read as a “choice” card but it looks more like “avoidance of choosing” to me, or at least “suspension of judgment.”
In the 8 of Swords, the sword-points are set firmly in the ground as if to steer the woman away from a rational solution and toward a more intuitive one. (Looks like the waffling woman in the 2 of Swords tried to make a choice after all and it went badly for her.) She is impelled forward along the water-course with only the counsel of her feet (the anatomical symbol of Pisces, the psychically-sensitive Water sign associated with the tarot Moon) to guide her. The “sole” (pun originally unintended) decision to be made is one of expedience rather than informed volition. None of the “peace” of the 2 of Swords carries over here (unless it is the detachment of fatalism); in keeping with the esoteric correspondence of the Eights to the unbalanced position of Mercury on the Tree of Life, there is barely-suppressed anxiety in this image, the resolution of which requires “following the heart, not the head.” Would you trust an important decision made in the throes of such duress?
The Queen of Sword brandishes her sword and waves her hand as if to say “Bring it on! I’ll carve it for you to my own specifications, not yours.” She is done with agonizing and now just wants to exercise her long-denied Will. She is the only figure among the four that is future-oriented (gazing toward the right); the others all “dwell in the moment.” Thus she is also the only one with a well-rounded perspective to temper her deliberations while the rest are working entirely with the circumstantial evidence they’ve been given. There is something to be said for the insights achieved by having your head above the clouds. While the King of Swords is permitted some latitude in his verdict (his sword is slightly canted and his posture is relaxed), she sits bolt-upright and holds the symbol of her office ramrod-straight, ready (even eager) to strike. It’s not quite the Medieval “King’s (or in this case Queen’s) Justice” promulgated by William the Conqueror, but it’s close enough as makes no real difference.
The crowned woman in Justice seems to be keeping the petitioner at bay, admonishing “You stay back there where I can keep an eye on you while I decide whether to let you approach.” She is the penultimate magistrate, unflappable and secure in her dominion; for the seeker of universal truth there is no authority above her until one arrives at the final accounting of Judgement. She is the last of her kind in the series, an uncompromising feminine archetype and implacable arbiter sitting above the fray, untainted by human passions and sympathies, meting out impersonal decrees with admirable aplomb and precision. Querents often ask “Is this a good card?” To which I answer “It depends on whether you are found worthy or wanting when the decision is handed down. If you impress her, you’re ‘golden;’ if not . . . well, go away and come back when you’re ready, maybe you’ll catch her on a good day.”
The narrative I see in these cards is a mini-tableau of the Fool’s journey that has been scripted by his tyrannical mother, one that at best awards him a reprieve rather than a “happy ending.” It might well be summarized as “What part of ‘No’ don’t you understand?” The progression reminds me of the United States court system: District Court (2 of Swords); Circuit Court (8 of Swords); Court of Appeals (Queen of Swords); Supreme Court (Justice), the “court of last resort.”
There are some interesting numerological correlations at work in this array. According to French occultist Joseph Maxwell, the stable, feminine, receptive, magnetic and harmonious number Two represents the fundamental unit of the single-digit binary sub-set, while Eight reflects its fulfillment in justice and equilibrium after a “test of truth” (2x2x2=8).
The Queen of Swords — the thirteenth card of the suit — relates to Four, the number of the Law, by “Theosophical addition” (1+3=4), echoing the Emperor and also “doubling-down” on the ominous exterior exhibited by the 2 of Swords (2×2=4), with one lusty (bloodthirsty?) sword rather than two impotent ones.
Justice, the eleventh trump in the RWS system, is associated with Two by Theosophical addition (1+1=2), but the inquisitor has laid aside her blindfold; she now sees — and rules — with merciless clarity. In the Thoth deck and its Tarot de Marseille predecessors, Justice is the eighth trump, and therefore represents the full weight of purposeful reckoning that was more blindly reactive in its earlier manifestations in the 2 and 8 of Swords. (Although I was tempted to add the 6 of Swords as a “rite of passage” card, Six is a mixed hybrid of Two and Three — “2 taken thrice” and “2x3” — that doesn’t figure into my binary paradigm.) In either case, Justice is anything but “blind.” She won’t smite the unworthy out of hand, but cross her and she would do so without flinching. There is an exhortation from an old “fire-and-brimstone” religious sermon that goes “Chastise them according to their desserts!”
Afterthoughts: An online conversation led me to clarify (but not alter) my thinking on the subject of Swords and the feminine principle:
Swords are harsh by nature (Waite thought so), and we know from the “Dark Mother” sitting at the top of the Pillar of Severity on the Tree of Life that the feminine principle is not necessarily a gentle, nurturing one. The blindfolds suggest deflected (perhaps internalized) interest, but the Queen of Swords is “vitally interested” and Justice is fully engaged. The correct wielding of power requires self-discipline as well as righteous intent; one without the other is merely posturing, or worse.
Originally published at http://parsifalswheeldivination.wordpress.com on June 17, 2023.
